Keep Marching

Malachi and Robin each participated in the recent Women’s March in Washington, D.C. They offer some observations below.


There has been much discussion- before, during, and after- on inclusivity and intersectionality at the Women’s March held in DC (as well as the hundreds of sister marches that occurred around the world). I was fortunate enough to be present at the march in DC with my family and several dear friends and, miraculously, managed to stay with the same group of eight people.

I have many complicated feelings about the march- some positive, some negative, and some that are just observations. Because, clearly, the march was a huge success- although the standards for what makes a march successful are nebulous- and it was empowering to see so many people uniting against a common cause.

I think, perhaps, that’s the most poignant piece of the march, for me. It was not a group of people uniting FOR, but AGAINST: against oppression, against corruption, against invasive laws, against Donald Trump. But the things each person was FOR varied widely: some for pro-sex worker visibility, some were pro-LGBTQ equality, some were pro-Black Lives Matter, etc. I’ve talked some about this in other places, but when you have a collection of people whose unifying factor is what they aren’t, rather than what they are, it risks reinstating a hierarchical system that priorities of those with the loudest voices.

There were many wonderful things about the women’s march: some really powerful signs (the one that has stuck with me, for example, was the woman who carried the sign, “I refuse to be gaslighted” which, to me,,width=178,height=178/who-run-the-world-girls.png,width=178,height=178/who-run-the-world-girls.png

spoke volumes about history of emotional abuse as well as the ongoing rewriting of facts coming from the political arena.) My goddaughter joining in on the chant, “Who runs the world?” “Girls!” and watching her sense of empowerment growing. Her discussions of “my body, my choice” in the car on the ride home. Watching the people I was with proudly sporting signs and buttons that spoke to the visibility of sex workers.

The march was powerful to be at for many reasons, but it was also a complicated place to be. With the exception of our goddaughter, everyone else in our group can pass as white (although I don’t know how they necessarily identify). We did not experience firsthand some of the direct harassment and erasure that I hear many POC folks talking about.

I did feel a little uncomfortable about the pink pussy hats, however. I understood the point behind them, but there is an underlying message that implies that genitals are pink (not true) and ownership of a vagina defines womanhood (also not true).

I have heard POC women say that the pink pussy hats didn’t bother them; I’ve heard others say it felt exclusionary (some knit brown and black pussy hats instead of pink). I’ve heard some transwomen say they felt excluded, and others say they didn’t have an issue with the genital-focused discussions.

Again, there isn’t an objectively “right” or “wrong” answer to this; this is

a natural byproduct of the unifying force being “against” rather than “for.” When we march against, that ends up looking distinctly different from person to person and group to group. But I do think there are some important points from the women’s march that should be addressed.

I feel like there has been some criticism of the criticism aimed at the women’s march. Because yes, we should celebrate that it was a success and felt empowering. And it was, and we should, and many are. But I also think there is a vital part of the conversation that involved intentionally recognizing that intersectionality, while present in some aspects, felt glaringly missing in many regards- never mind that telling people how they “should” feel is an erasure of differing experiences altogether.

I think of the history of social justice movements, and recognize that there is some degree to which the freedoms afforded to one group often feel like they come at the cost to another. Many in marginalized communities have felt the sting of being told to “wait their turn.” I remember when HRC dropped gender from the Employment Non-Discrimination Act because they didn’t think they could get it passed if trans people were included, and “something is better than nothing.” Trans people were effectively told that our presence wasn’t worth fighting for, that gay rights was more important than trans rights. I have not supported HRC since then (as they have continued to have policies that I found problematic).

The criticisms I see of the march feel very much like they are coming from a place of understanding- and not wanting to repeat- the mistakes of the past. Because so often, people don’t keep showing up once they’ve gotten the freedoms that personally affect them. I truly believe that the best way to ensure freedoms for everyone is to bind together the fates of different communities and identities. Thus, we arrive at the basis of intersectionality.

None of us are single-dimensional people. We all have privileges and oppressions that contribute to our ability to navigate the world. It’s not×376.jpg

that the experiences of one community are “the same” as the experiences of another community; it’s understanding that, when something impacts one community, all communities are residually impacted. It’s the essence of the quote “oppression anywhere is a threat to freedom everywhere.” We may not have the same struggle, but there is room for your struggle in my resistance. And if there isn’t… am I just interested in representing my own interests? To me, that undermines the purpose of social justice.

I truly believe we have to stop looking at just those issues that will directly affect our own lives and take in the broader scope of human injustice. In doing that, we can then see which solutions are beneficial to all versus which solutions only benefit us directly- and furthermore, recognize when those solutions come at the expense of another community. If white people are not willing to listen when POC say that something is harmful or damaging, then we are fueling and supporting racism. If men are not willing to listen when women say something is harmful or damaging, then we are fueling and supporting sexism. And so forth.

we-can-do-itSo do I think the women’s march was bad? Absolutely not. I felt empowered to be there with the people I was with, and I was glad I went. But I am also a white person in a sea of white faces, and I was surrounded by white privilege that didn’t directly impact me. If I let that slide, then I am part of the problem fueling racism, and I’m not interested in being a part of a group of people willing to actively ignore problematic aspects of their resistance.

There is space in my resistance for your struggle. I am against this government, against this president, and against the people who feel emboldened by his assent to power. But I am also for my communities, for my friends, for ending dehumanization and isolation. Each struggle impacts another, and we can put in the work and intention to make sure that our movements do not come at the cost of other’s freedoms. That is the kind of resistance I want to work toward.


I went to the Women’s March in Washington, D.C. on January 21. I wanted my body to be counted among those who choose to resist the rising intolerance of difference and the drumbeat of injustice being encouraged and led by the new President and his minions.

revrobin2-023From the moment at 7 am when I drove into the Metro parking lot at Greenbelt station and realized it was already more than half full and that cars were arriving steadily, I began to feel the power that comes from joining my body, my soul, with others who have an ever-widening understanding of who we, as a people, a nation, are called to be (my sign below on the left, from the back page of the Washington Post of Friday).

I had wanted to beat the rush, and here I was right in the middle of it. And I was glad. The train was full when we started (Greenbelt is the end of the Green Line) and it got fuller at each of the twelve stops until Gallery Place/Chinatown where I was getting off to meet a group—especially at College Park/University of Maryland. There is something wonderfully energizing about the arrival of 20 or 30 collegians into an already crowded space—noisy, laughing, so clearly enjoying each other—that I needed right then.

As I walked about 15 minutes towards the Hyatt Regency on New Jersey Avenue where I was meeting my group from Temple Shalom, I began seeing other marches, carrying signs, many smiling and saying “Good Morning” in response to my greeting.  Two women at different moments asked to take my picture (they liked the combination of purple clergy shirt and collar and dangly purple earrings with my white beard).

we-the-peopleThe signs kept coming—more versions of the one that first caught my eye on the train, “Pussy Grabs Back”—so many creative expressions of resistance, often coupled with humor and word play. Even the edgy, angry signs seemed to carry a certain joi de vivre, such that my body and my soul began to feel much lighter than the day before.  There is life here, I thought, especially in contrast to the bleakness of the President’s divisive speech the day before (much of the media called his tone “dark” but dark is beautiful; it was bleak, no grace, no joy, no hope except if we let him do what he wants).

That is when I began to realize one of the main things that divides me, and many others, from him.

All of us that day, or at least me and most of us, carry some real and deep fear about what the next four years will be. We march because we choose to stand up and push back against those determined to undo many of the gains for justice and inclusion that have been made. And we want to make more.

The President also is afraid, very afraid. In fact, I think fear drives everything he says and does, even though he works hard to disguise his fear. The fact that he puts his name in very large letters on everything he erects (yes, erects) is, I believe, a response to his fear that he will be forgotten, disregarded, abandoned. His response to this base level fear of erasure is to make himself as big as possible. But it is all about him, even when he claims it is about other folks who feel left out or behind (many of whom have valid complaints).

trump-towerThe difference at the march is that we were there for things we care about, our own needs of course, but also because we know our needs are linked to the needs of others. So, we want to gather together to create a new world, a more just and generous world.

He wants people to gather together to honor him—hence his claim the media lied about the size of the crowd at the inauguration.

Was the march a perfect vehicle for women and allies and advocates to express our determination to resist being sucked into his fear-based vortex? Certainly not.  It was not well-organized. The inexperience of march organizers showed (and in their defense, they did not have much time to build the necessary structure).

The pink pussy hats were pretty and the sea of pink could be captivating, but of course not all “pussies” are pink, and not all women have them either. I did not see and hear enough about transwomen, for example, although I was grateful to Angela Davis for mentioning them, and especially transwomen of color, several times. And she mentioned the need for solidarity with Palestinians, too. As so often, she told deep, often difficult, truths very clearly. I also was glad to be surrounded by, and participate in, chants of Black Lives Matter.

cant-build-a-wall-hands-too-smallI was uncomfortable with many of the references to the President’s allegedly small dick. On the one hand, the size of his organ is of little or no consequence and of no interest to me. On the other hand, I do not appreciate men being criticized or ostracized because of penis-size prejudice.  And I continue to wonder if at least some of his need for big buildings and large crowds is due to some body issues, including perhaps having a smaller-than- he-wants penis. I certainly know something about taking on shame about having a small one myself.

There were other troubling moments. What to do about abortion opponents? I am clearly pro-choice because I believe women have the basic human right to control their own bodies. That makes it hard for me to engage in dialogue with people who claim abortion is murder.  That language really does not allow for much room for conversation (for more than hour, I was stuck in a spot at the march where the most visible sign in the distance was one that made the murder claim—very surreal). Yet, I am inclined to try to listen to women who say this, because they have some standing in the debate as those who, unlike me and all male-bodied persons, can actually bring a fetus to maturation and delivery. The decision to deny co-sponsorship to an anti-abortion group needs more discussion before the next march.

abortion-sign-clashAnd that is one more piece of good news. Already people are talking about an annual Women’s March. We can keep doing this to help us stay energized and focused on creating the change we want and need, and opposing the change the President and other fearful people claim is necessary (the return to “good ole days” when women and many others knew their place, behind and under the control of white straight men with money and power).

Of course, much can be improved with the march—better organization, more intentional and complete inclusion, even more local marches, etc.

What’s really at stake here are bodies, the well-being of bodies, especially those more regularly marginalized and abused. I realize I carry a lot of privilege, my white male body is part of the group many of whose leaders continue to insist on the right to dominate all others. The fact that I am gay and older does not deny me the privilege that comes with my gender and my color, though in some moments those identities can reduce that privilege.

civil-disobedienceSo, what the Women’s March reminded me of is pretty basic: I need to put my body on the line more than I have been doing in the past few years. It’s time to put my body on the line with others whose bodies are already there.

Thus, I intend to show up for Black Lives Matter, abortion rights, trans siblings, immigrants, all of us affected by climate change and especially to push back against the denial of science, hungry children and families, homeless people, sex workers, Palestinians whose homes are destroyed and whose land is occupied too often by others, and certainly victims of abuse of many kinds, among others.

I hope you’ll join me. That’s how marching works. And wins.


We Want to Hear from You! Help Make this a Conversation!

Did you participate in a local march or action? Did you feel included or did you feel “othered” by those around you? What are your thoughts on protest in the coming weeks, months, and years? Please share your thoughts, your heart, on these questions or anything else this blog raises for you (see “Leave a Comment” link on upper left, underneath categories and tags), or box below, or write Malachi and/or Robin at the emails listed above their pictures on the right.

Join Us Third Thursdays!

Please join us THURSDAY, February 16th for Sex, Bodies, Spirit Online from 3-4:00 EST/19:00 UTC. To access the call, please click here. Please note that some members of the call (including Robin and Malachi) choose to enable video during the call. Video is not necessary; we encourage participants to participate as they feel comfortable. A sidebar chat option is available to those who choose not to enable their audio/video components.  If you have questions or concerns prior to the workshop, please write one of us at the email addresses above our pictures.

Workshop description:

Coming soon!

Recordings of the workshop presentations by Malachi and Robin are being made available periodically.

Our Right to Choose

God gives us the right, and the responsibility, to choose how we live in our bodies . . . .


13494904_10100653721109769_3022759221022255872_nRecently, Texas promulgated a regulation that requires burial for aborted fetuses. And as we go to publication, we have learned that the Ohio Legislature has adopted a prohibition on abortion as soon as a fetal heartbeat can be detected–as soon as six weeks after conception (no word if the bill will be signed by Governor Kasich). This has made Robin and I both consider that, in the midst of talking about sex, bodies, sexuality, reproduction, etc., we have not talked at all about abortion.

For the longest time, I believed that everyone around me- obviously- believed in a woman’s right to choose whether or not to carry a pregnancy to term. One day, I was sitting in the car with my birth mother, and we were talking about (among other things) the death penalty. I mentioned that I was against the death penalty because I didn’t believe that the state had the right to punish someone through taking their life. My mother then asked where I stood on abortion and, without thinking twice, stated that I was pro-choice. She responded, “So you’re against killing people who deserve it but for killing people who don’t?”

This is the first time that it occurred to me that there were people in my life that might not be pro-choice. I was flabbergasted and felt (and still feel) that the argument she made was a false analogy (involving a divergent definition of “life,” as well as the concept of “deserve to die,” something that I believe no person is able to decide for another person).

Growing up in MCC, abortion wasn’t something that was often discussed in my church. I maintained my pro-choice stance, but felt that abortion wasn’t something that was as relevant to our church as other worship spaces. We were a predominantly queer church, so many of the couples that were pregnant had gone through expensive medical procedures to conceive, and abortion wasn’t on anyone’s mind. We also didn’t have a lot of teenagers and younger folks, so our youth ministry wasn’t as focused on things like sex ed and contraception (although I did receive the best queer safer sex talk of my life from a person I met through the church. They sat me down with gloves, a dental dam, and a pint of ice cream and didn’t mince words on the importance of protection and safer sex practices.)

In my life, I have always been pro-choice. I think abortion is a tragic reality that should be a whole lot more rare than it is now, but without proper sex education and access to contraceptives, abortion continues to be the most well-known (if controversial) method of not having a child.

Pro-choice, to me, does not mean “pro-abortion.” It means the ability for each person to make the decision that is best for their body, circumstances, and beliefs. It has been my belief, for example, that I could never choose to have an abortion. I have (for the most part) always known that I wanted kids, and my sex life has not been such that I have been in many situations that could have resulted in my pregnancy. I thought, therefore, that if ever I found myself pregnant, I would, of course, keep the child and raise it.

But an interesting thing happened two summers ago. I had gone to a kink event and ended up in a situation in which I had sex with multiple people in a short span of time, the majority of which had anatomy that could result in my getting pregnant. I used protection and, while I had some complicated feelings about the situation, all was well.

Until my period was late. A couple of days and then a week or so. I started to panic. I didn’t want to be pregnant from that situation.  This wasn’t just a one-night stand situation… this was multiple people in a gangbang-style situation. I had used protection; my partner was there the entire time and helped make sure that everyone wore condoms. I recall sitting on my back porch, freaking out, talking to my partner and chain smoking, feeling immensely guilty but not sure what else to do.

“Maybe I should have an abortion,” I said, and I couldn’t believe I was saying the words. Me, who never thought I would consider that an option. Me, who was very strongly pro-choice, and I felt the shift as my choices began to change. I took a pregnancy test a couple days later, and it came back negative. The next day, my period started, and all was well.

But something in me changed during this situation. Something in me realized that there were situations that I would consider that as an option, something I never thought would be true. Something in me realized the importance of going through that situation and being faced with the reality of a choice- although I wasn’t pregnant, I had to grapple with many of the same feelings as people do when the do find themselves unexpectedly pregnant.

The reality is, of course, that this is all about choice. It’s all about

recognizing a person’s bodily autonomy. This is the crucial point: for so long, people have tried to legislate and codify what people are allowed to do with their own bodies- sex work, what types of sex people can have, what types of relationships people can have, how certain genders are expected to present themselves, what types of hairstyles are considered professional. So much of this comes down to the idea that there is an inherent “right” and “wrong”- and how interesting that the “right” answer is so often white, hetero-centric, and male-determined.

Pro-choice is not about “pro-abortion.” It’s about the fundamental belief in another person’s bodily autonomy. And laws like the ones we are seeing in Texas usurp the ability of a person to make the best choice for themselves by making one option significantly more painful than it already is (and trust me, the decision to have an abortion is not an easy one for most people). Pro-choice is the belief in a person’s God-given right to be, and celebrate, who they are, free from interference or discrimination from others.

I am still pro-choice. I am pro-people’s abilities to make choices about

their own bodies. I am pro- people decided what kinds of sex they want to have (and don’t want to have). I’m pro- people deciding whether sex is something they want to trade as labor for income. I am pro- people deciding what kinds of clothes, makeup, and presentation they want to have today, regardless of their genital configuration. I am pro- all kinds of hairstyles in the workplace- including locs, braids, and ‘fros. And I am pro- people deciding whether this is the time, situation, and circumstance to carry a child to term.



What an easy way to generate a heated debate or silence—perhaps on occasion a thoughtful discussion.

revrobin2-023I am a committed feminist, a committed male-identified feminist. My default position, in the current lingo, is pro-choice. That is in line with my own commitment to supporting and safeguarding the innate and lifelong integrity of every human body.

At the same time, I am aware all the public statements and political positions in the world do not fully address the complex issues and experiences—physical, emotional, spiritual, and social—connected to making an individual choice about pregnancy and reproductive health.

For example, in 1974 my new wife, Judy, and I went to a clinic for her to have an abortion. This was about a year after the U.S. Supreme Court issued its ruling in Roe v. Wade. We had engaged in pre-marital sex, she became pregnant despite my using a condom, and she became pregnant. We were scared—she was a school teacher in our small town, and I had been a local official—and decided to seek an abortion. We told people our honeymoon in Bermuda would be for about 10 days, but we arranged to return home several days early so we could keep an appointment at the clinic in a nearby city. Fortunately, she was not so far along at the time of our wedding to be noticeable.

My beautiful former wife, mother of our three daughters, Judy

Times have changed, yes. The fear, and shame, we felt forty years ago are not so prevalent today. But even now having an abortion is not something women generally announce on Facebook.

Like many things that are complicated, and involve sex and bodies, most of us—the women actually undergoing the procedure plus the men involved and other family members and friends—tend toward privacy. So often, there is deep pain involved, a real sense of loss and perhaps even failure.

There also is awareness that others may not approve, or even be angry. The division within the United States over abortion is acute, and the edges feel very hard.

Driving by a Roman Catholic Church, as I do often, one sees  a sign, “Pray to End Abortion.”  Sometimes a sign promoting an adoption program is nearby as well.

When we lived in Richmond, VA, my daily route to and from church took me by a family planning clinic. Twice each week, on Tuesdays and Saturdays, there were protesters, including children, with signs and flyers. I cannot imagine how hard it was for women and their allies to traverse the gauntlet to get to their appointment (whether for an abortion or not).


All of this campaigning against abortion is legal and is an exercise of constitutionally protected speech. But, as is so often the case with religion, especially Christianity, bodies—women’s bodies most of all—are missing.

And when women’s bodies are missing, women’s moral agency is missing. The authority of women to determine what goes into and what comes out of their bodies is central to their well-being. This is true of men as well, of course, but the specifics are different. Plus, men, as men, especially white heterosexually-oriented men, have not suffered so directly from patriarchal oppression.

As my former ethics teacher, the late Beverly Wildung Harrison, wrote in 1983, “a woman denied access to an abortion she wants is, de facto, compelled to childbearing against her will (Our Right to Choose: Toward a New Ethic of Abortion, Beacon Press; emphasis in original). This simple fact remains just as true today.

Beverly Wildung Harrison, often called “the mother of Christian feminist ethics”

That others view abortion as always homicide does not negate, in my view, the imposition of bodily violation against the pregnant woman. Indeed, this insistence on valuing the fetus more than the woman is yet another iteration of the patriarchal subjugation of women.  It is no accident that the primary religious advocates for the anti-abortion position are part of Christian communities that do not allow women to exercise all leadership roles and often insist on relegating women to one particular set of social roles—wife and mother, and homemaker.

That the decision to abort a fetus can be fraught with anxiety and deep internal conflict is not an argument to abolish the right. It is, like unpopular free speech, precisely the opposite. If we only protect popular speech, we no longer have free speech. Now, in Texas, state regulations will begin requiring burial or cremation of fetal remains—a practice which clearly seems to be an effort to shame women and medical practitioners who participate in aborting a fetus (click here for more). The legislatures of Indiana and Louisiana have passed similar laws but the regulations to carry out the law are tied up in litigation (Indiana’s law was signed by Governor, and now Vice-President-elect, Mike Pence).

Women must have the right to control their own bodies. In fact, I contend that the right to engage in embodied activity, so long as it does not violate the body of another person, is a form of free speech. This certainly applies to sexual activity, and it logically applies to that which arises from such activity.


There is a theological thread here of immense importance—and it is the integrity of the human bodies created in God’s image.  My own religious movement, Metropolitan Community Churches, is clear about this: “MCC affirms that all people are entitled to the rights and resources that equip them to make their own decisions about their bodies, their sexuality, and their well-being, including the inalienable right of women to control their bodies.” (Click here for the full statement)

Racism, for example, is a denial of this integrity. Some abortion opponents equate support for abortion with slavery or racial discrimination—saying that denial of life to the fetus is at least as egregious.

But it is not the same. Slaves were fully grown humans—including their children—as are those who are victimized by racial prejudice and active discrimination and repression in our own time. Slavery was wrong in that it devalued the personhood, the embodiment of God in the person of its victims.


Justice is always embodied justice. You can tell where justice is missing by how particular bodies, and groups of bodies, are treated. And when it comes to sex, it is no accident that women as a group are second-class citizens (even though men are victims of sexual abuse too). Indeed, Simone de Beauvoir captured this in her 1949 classic, The Second Sex.

Did Judy and I come to regret our decision in 1974? Yes. Did we also know we did the best we could? Yes.

Yet, did she carry a burden to her grave in 2001? Did she and I weep together before she died, of cancer at age 60, because of this? Yes.

Does that mean other women, with the counsel and support of their husbands and lovers, families, friends, clergy—should be denied the right to make their own choice? No. In fact, Judy and I admitted to each other, that were we to face the same situation again, we could not be sure we would not repeat our action. Ultimately, I knew then, as I know now, the decision was hers. And I believe it must always be so for women who bear the fetus and whose health is intimately affected by giving birth and nurturing the child.

Malachi and I are engaged in this blog to encourage a new focus on bodies, sex, and spirit—working to increase awareness that these are not separate categories of existence and human activity but instead divinely ordered and connected. We also know that God gives us the precious gift of sexuality in our bodies in order to bring us closer to each other and to God. When we create hierarchies of value based on humanly defined gender categories and other criteria we deny the God in each, and all, of us.

God gives us the right, and the responsibility, to choose how we live in our bodies. No law, no court, no church, should take that away.

We Want to Hear from You! Help Make this a Conversation!

What do you think influences your sense of your own body, your relationship with your body? And what influences how you see and evaluate the bodies of others? What bodies are most sexy for you? Is your own body sexy for you? Please share your thoughts, your heart, on these questions or anything else this blog raises for you (see “Leave a Comment” link on upper left, underneath categories and tags), or box below, or write Malachi and/or Robin at the emails listed above their pictures on the right.

Join Us Third Thursdays!

Please join us THURSDAY, December 15th for Sex, Bodies, Spirit Online from 3-4:00 EST/19:00 UTC. To access the call, please click here. Please note that some members of the call (including Robin and Malachi) choose to enable video during the call. Video is not necessary; we encourage participants to participate as they feel comfortable. A sidebar chat option is available to those who choose not to enable their audio/video components.  If you have questions or concerns prior to the workshop, please write one of us at the email addresses above our pictures.

Workshop description:

Sacred, Not Secret, Part 2: Beyond the Norm

We invite you to join us on Thursday, Dec 15th for the second part of the series, “Sacred, Not Secret” where Malachi Grennell and Rev. Dr. Robin H. Gorsline continue to discuss alternative expressions of sexuality and intimacy from a Christian perspective. On December 15, they will begin to explore non-normative relationship structures, focusing on non-monogamous relationships. This one-hour workshop will examine different aspects of non-monogamy, as well as discuss ways that we can be more open and inclusive to non-monogamous families in our churches and communities–because do not doubt that you know and interact with such families, in church and elsewhere.

As Metropolitan Community Church strives to move forward and maintain relevance with shifting social mores, the MCC Office of Formation and Leadership Development offers Sex, Bodies, Spirit online on the third Thursday of every month at 3 p.m. Eastern Time. This workshop is approved as a continuing education course for MCC clergy (.5 credit for each session) and focuses on equipping and empowering leaders to bring these conversations to their communities. Although a primary focus is on clergy education, everyone is welcome to attend and participate.