Our Sex, Our Bodies, Our Spirit

. . . some ways we incorporate our sexuality and spirituality in our lives to be authentically ourselves

Robin: 

As is our practice, Malachi and I engaged in conversation about this month’s installment of SexBodiesSpirit. Neither of us had an idea of a topic (usually one of us does).  We both have had very busy and demanding days of late so we weren’t sure what might emerge.

But we enjoy talking with each other, learning from each other, and over the course of an hour or so we decided to write about our respective contexts in terms of the issues and lives involvNude Shoot: Robin Gorsline, 10/3/2017ed in sex, bodies and spiritual life. Although we share many ideas and ideals about these deeply entwined subjects, we engage them quite differently. We hope that our readers will see some of the possibilities for their own lives, and will resonate with our understanding that there is a wide variety ways to be sexual, to be embodied, and to be spiritual.

Some of our differences may be generational and age-related, and gender-related, too (me labeled and socialized as male and he labeled and socialized as female until he chose to claim his true gender identity).  I was born in 1946, Malachi in 1988. Even more than our age difference is the great disparity in the social contexts in which each of us came to adulthood. Baby Boomers (me) experienced one set of social norms, Gen Y (Malachi) folks another.

I now identify as queer, even gender queer in some respects at least, but when I came out as gay in the early 80’s the word queer was still an epithet for most. It took me 20+ years since then to begin to consider queerness as my identity of choice, and only in the past several years have I fully embraced it.

gender queerWhat this means in terms of sex, for me at least, is that after giving up my professed heterosexuality and embracing my same-sex self, I engaged in vanilla sex with some initial men, and then with my first male partner, then with various one-night stands (and a few jerk-off clubs in New York) until my now 20+-year monogamous marriage with Jonathan. It never even crossed my mind to consider three-ways (in fact, one early lover, not long after I came out, wanted that and I reacted with horror and disgust, partly due to my dislike for the proposed partner but mostly due to my gut rejection to the very idea). I had never even heard of kink and BDSM! And it has only been in the past decade or so that polyamory has become a more wide and accepted practice.

All of this is to say that sexually I am pretty tame. Of course, my age and the resulting diminished drive and capacity for sex plays a role, too.

And yet my mind, my soul—and indeed my body (nude as much as possible in this body-fearing world) in some ways I am only beginning to understand—feel very much alive and sexy. I love sex even though I don’t have a lot of it!

kinkAnd I am thrilled to have learned so much from Malachi and others about kink, BDSM, and polyamory—I am grateful to be alive at a time in history when so many old sexual taboos and shackles are being removed. Even when they are not my practices, I revel in the possibilities, for myself perhaps and certainly for others. Who knows how much freer I can yet become, and even more how much more liberation is in store for our world?

This very much informs my theologizing, my queer theologizing. Indeed, it may be most accurate to say that my sexual horizons and my embodiment, are now in synch with my spiritual and theological orientation. They are all working together in ways unknown to me before.

I have long believed that my higher power, whom I call God, is a totally loving being, a totally caring Creator, who empowers us to live whole lives, filled with love and passion and justice and self- and other-care, and strength and gentleness and much, much more. In the past 10 years or so, I have come to understand that our bodies, yours and mine and everyone else’s, are the centers and vehicles of our wholeness, and that sexuality, sex in all its myriad (and consensual) forms is the energy driving the movement toward wholeness. I say sex or sexuality but I mean a perhaps a more capacious term too, namely the Eros (or Body) of God.

sistine chapelWhat do I mean by the eros of God, the body of God? For me, it’s pretty simple, though it may not be so for others. The body of God is how I refer to what many call The Creation, the entire created order, all life forms not just humans, you and me and every other human being and creature and object of any sort. It’s all God from start to finish and all of it together makes up God’s body.

I often use the two terms, eros of God and body of God, interchangeably, because I find it difficult to separate them, but for our purposes I will say that the eros of God is the energy that infuses the body of God. As a queer theologian, it seems clear to me that one cannot have the body without the energy, which is why I so often use them together and interchangeably.

What I now know, and believe from the depths of my soul and body (and those two terms, so often seen as distinct, are a complete unity to me), is that God speaks to me through my body, with the divine Eros, and makes that eros mine too. I have long said, “There is always more with God,” and now I see that that is not just a mental or theological construct but actually comes directly to and through me in body, sex and spirit.

proclaimI don’t know if I can make this unity as clear to my readers as it is to me, but I hope it may give the reader some sense of why—despite a seemingly limited sex life these days (and through my entire life)—I can now stand and say, Luther-like and with great joy and thanksgiving, “My God, my sex, my body, my spirit—all one without exception and without end.” And I stand and pray it is so for Jonathan and my children and grandchildren, Malachi and other friends and colleagues, and my neighbors and certainly my readers, indeed the entire world.

This feels to me like a manifesto, a rootedness so strong that I proclaim it to the world in joy and hope and certainly in love. You read it here first.

But I will have more to say (here and elsewhere) over the coming months and years about this and its implications for Christianity (and especially my own MCC movement and other progressive religious movements in and outside Christianity), and in our shared political and social life in the United States and the world.

I don’t engage in partnered or solo sex all that often these days, but if I am paying attention, if I allow true God/erotic consciousness to engage me I can, and often do, have moments of connectivity with Eros, with the whole of who I am and the greater whole, that provide unique feelings of deep satisfaction and bliss, forms of orgasm, every day. I hope and pray that whatever shapes your sex life, your Eros, take, that this is true for you, too.

Malachi:

Photo by DWL

Sometimes I think it’s easy for me to forget the context of my life in integrating the work that I do, the work that I am passionate about, the work that fills and nurtures my spirit. As Robin and I sat down to do our monthly discussion about the things going on in our lives and what we might want to write about, he made the comment that this collaboration, this project, writing about sexuality and bodies and spirituality was grounding for him. It was a way for him to focus on these things that fed his spirit in a way that it wasn’t often fed.

I mulled over that a bit because I have a somewhat different experience. I am a professional kinkster and live my entire life talking about sexuality, about bodies, and somewhat about spirituality. This project feeds my need for connection with the spiritual, with the Holy, with God, but it integrates very easily into the rest of my life. Although our beliefs and ideas tend to converge and synthesize well together, Robin and I do come from divergent experiences in many different aspects, and we decided to take this month to write about some of our own contexts and the ways in which we incorporate our sexuality and spirituality into our lives in ways that feel authentic- and also in ways that we can then come together and talk about it.

I commented above that I am a professional kinkster. My sole means of income comes from working within the kink and BDSM communities: as an educator, as a ropemaker, as an event producer and promoter, as event staff. I spend my life surrounded by people for whom kink is an common part of their lives. But I also spend my life talking about sex, and the manifestations of sexuality. I spend a lot of time talking about intersection: the intersections of oppression within subgroups and subcultures, the idea that the things we do in the kink community are sometimes non-consensually done outside of the kink community, and having an awareness of how we engage and interact with hard parts of our sexuality that feel loaded with shame, stigma, or trauma.

I make bondage rope for a living. It seems perfectly normal to me to say, “I make rope,” when people ask me what I do, and I have to step back and remind myself that my lexicon is often different than other people’s (the most common response I get to that statement is, “What do you mean?” because rope is not a common part of every person’s life.)

The truth is, I have desensitized myself to a world and a life that is vastly divergent from most people’s experiences, and I no longer have any sense of what is “normal” and what isn’t. I recognize that this often creates a communication barrier between myself and others: I don’t know how to begin to talk about what I spend my time doing without first giving an in-depth primer about the kink scene and the social structures and norms of that space. Something as common in my world as the sentence, “I’m going to camp and looking for some pick-up play, specifically a sadistic rope scene,” takes a lot of explaining: what “pick-up play” is, what a “scene” is, how this is different than bedroom bondage or sexually-based kinks, what “camp” is, etc.

This isn’t something that’s foreign to me. I often feel like this when trying to talk about gender, something I have been analyzing for as long as I can remember to the point where my construction and understanding of gender is useless without the foundational groundwork of primers and Gender 101 classes and a working understanding of the binary system, what it is, and why it’s important to dismantle. But in trying to talk about or explain my gender, I am often very aware of the gap between myself and the people asking the questions, and it can feel difficult to bridge that gap in a quick, casual conversation.

My life is somewhat inaccessible, and that’s something I have to reconcile when I focus in on this project. My baseline assumptions, ideals, and beliefs are the product of years of struggling with different ideas and concepts, and I don’t always know how to condense those things down into something short, sweet, and accessible.

I don’t think this is bad, but I do think it’s something I need to be aware of. Because for me, it’s easy to integrate my sexuality, my relationship with my body, and my spirituality together. I have constructed my life to be able to think and talk about these things freely and surrounded myself with people with whom these discussions are commonplace. I have to step back and recognize that what seems easy to me is only easy because of the opportunities I have been afforded (a product of a generation that popularized language around BDSM, gender, and sexuality to make these things more accessible) and the ways I have been able to construct my life and income.

That being said, I think it’s still possible, regardless of everything else, to find ways to think and challenge yourself around these topics. To find people with whom you can share your experiences and thoughts and fears and struggle with the oppressive systems we work within. I think it’s possible to find a way to invite the holy into your bedroom, recognize the holy in your body, and find ways to bring these things together in a way that feels authentic for you.

I recognize that most people cannot live the way I do. Most people can’t- and don’t want to- spend their entire lives talking about sex, thinking about gender, teaching about oppression, and so forth. So the question I have for you- which is often the question I ask Robin- is, “What’s your ‘in’?” How do you access these things? What about what we talk about resonates with you? Where you do find your spirit calling you to explore, and what pathways and avenues are available to you?

How do we access these parts within ourselves that haven’t yet found an outlet, a way to be fully embraced? It doesn’t need to be as all-or-nothing as I (and in many ways, Robin as well) have done.

Where is the sexuality resonating in your spiritual practice? Where is your spirituality calling out to you to challenge your understanding of freedom, autonomy, and oppression? Where in your body does your sexuality resonate?

The context of my life affords me the opportunity to live these things fully, every day. And I love my life for it, as complicated as it can be sometimes (particularly while raising a child on the brink of preteen years). And although our experiences are divergent, I love that Robin and I are able to come together to share our thoughts and feelings with one another and with readers. But I think, sometimes, I lose sight that the conclusions work within the specific framework of my life, and aren’t necessarily possible for everyone. And that’s ok. The idea is never to tell others what is authentic for them; the idea has always, for me, been about helping people find new ways to ask questions, to challenge themselves, to seek more authentic relationships with one another, with themselves, and with God.

That is, I believe, what we are ministers, teachers, parents, community members, and friends do: not necessarily give answers, but share our experiences in hopes of sparking new questions.

 

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

What are your perspectives, your sense of self about sex, bodies, spirit? Have they changed over the years? How do you experience the unity of these three central parts of our lives? Do you, or are they separate and distinct? 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.

Mark Your Calendar! August 8th (or thereabouts), right here, the next installment of Sex, Bodies, Spirit. Our apologies for being too busy to post on July 11.

Unmasking Sex: Performance and Authenticity

Malachi: 

As the Halloween season comes to a close, we’ve seen another13494904_10100653721109769_3022759221022255872_n year of dressing up: scary costumes, fun costumes, goofy costumes, themed family costumes, sexy costumes (hopefully limited to adults), and so forth. We’ve seen people become someone else for a day or two: someone that inspired them (I saw quite a few female ghostbusters with steampunk goggles); something they wanted to believe in (a number of classic renditions of devils, angels, witches, etc.); or perhaps someone that they want to be all the time, but can’t (some rockstars, a David Bowie or two, and no shortage of superheroes).

I’ve definitely seen some offensive and problematic costumes as well: people dressed up in “Native” outfits (which are iconic of a whitewashed, Americanized understanding of many cultures, and are particularly offensive right now as protestors are being arrested at Standing Rock); men dressed in beards and a full dress playing “Dude Looks Like A Lady” and mocking non-passing transwomen; kids in blackface. There is a good and a bad side of dressing up, and Halloween inevitably brings out both.

For many, Halloween is a time to put on a mask and become someone (or something) that we aren’t. For others of us, however, it’s a time to unmask, to be who we truly are. For me, I walked around in the clothes I wear every day, plus a little extra makeup. Instead of strange sideways glances and uncomfortable whispers, I got compliments: “Hey, nice costume!”

It’s gotten me thinking about the ways in which we live our lives through performance: performance of gender, performance of faith, the performance of sex. It’s also gotten me thinking about the ways in which performance can be used to mock and even erase the experiences of others, such as some of these offensive Halloween costumes.

Kings & Queens Drag Show, Asheville NC Photo Credit Amy O
Kings & Queens Drag Show, Asheville NC
Photo Credit Amy O

I’ve been a drag performer. I’m not currently doing shows right now, but I did for six years in North Carolina. Drag, to me, is the performance of gender. Regardless of your body type or assigned sex at birth, any body can perform any kind of gender. I did both king and queen performances; sometimes I did both in the same show.

Drag was a means of exploring gender. It was a way to understand the complexities of gender expectations- everything from how to contour a face for feminine makeup (which meant exploring accepted bone structures and facial highlights associated with typical expectations of feminine beauty) to how men move and dance, every piece of drag requires us to understand the boundaries we are working within. Drag is the performance of gender, and as such, the performance heightens and feeds off of the expectations that are deeply rooted in many of us.

But outside of drag, we still perform gender. It is these exact rituals, in fact, that make drag part of what it is. For women, it’s body hair removal, makeup application, cinching the waist for that perfect hourglass figure. For men, it’s working out, looking buff, growing enough facial hair to prove that you can, having the appearance of a large cock. These are the rituals that are utilized in drag for show, but they are not necessarily less performative when done in daily life.

It is difficult to define what masculinity and femininity mean outside of the gender binary, but we can define what characteristics and traits are important to us because they make us feel good in our bodies, versus those rituals that are done because we are told that that is what “makes a real man” or “makes a real woman.” For example, I have no opinion, issue, or preference with a partner’s body hair grooming practices. I care more that those practices come from their own comfort and love of their bodies, and not from an unspoken rule that certain body parts must be shaved.

Which brings me to the concept of performance of sex. Sometimes, we are sexual when we don’t want to be. I’m not talking about rape; I mean, sometimes, we’re not really feeling it, and our partner is, and we love our partner, so we are intimate when we’d maybe rather go to bed, or finish our book, or any number of things (The Ferret writes a really wonderful post about this here) (and often we get more into it as we get started, but the instigation isn’t necessarily coming from us).

But there is a whole aspect of “performance” that comes into sex… particularly with assigned male at birth individuals who use their penises

https://fusiondotnet.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/fusion_sex_quotes_arousal.jpg?quality=80&strip=all
https://fusiondotnet.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/fusion_sex_quotes_arousal.jpg?quality=80&strip=all

for sex. In fact, “perform” is often used as a euphemism for “get hard and stay hard for a suitable length of time during which intercourse occurred.” It’s a question sometimes asked of gay men who have (or are) married to women: “Are you able to perform with her?” as though any man who is capable of getting hard and having sex with a woman is automatically “less gay.” As for assigned female at birth people, well… “faking orgasms” is something many women do on a consistent basis. If that’s not the performance of sex, I’m not sure what is.

Attraction, intimacy, connection: these things are so much more than the operational functions of anatomy, and certainly much more than feigning a particular type of enjoyment for your partner’s benefit.

The performance of faith is trickier, because “faith” means something different to each person.  Regardless of how a person relates to their faith, however, we fairly consistently see faith in God as a transformative experience. I personally believe that that type of transformation doesn’t just happen once or twice in a person’s life, but continues to happen as they grow and deepen their understanding of God and their faith.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/60/c4/b1/60c4b14465af7b726c2102ea7cd90c7d.jpg
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/60/c4/b1/60c4b14465af7b726c2102ea7cd90c7d.jpg

In that regard, I consider the performance of faith one in which our lives in relation to God have become stagnant. It is a point where we are more focused on the action, rather than the intention and meaning of the action. Are we kind to one another because we truly care for those whose lives have been harder than our own? Or are we kind to people because we have been told that we should be kind?

Like many things, performance isn’t inherently a bad thing. In fact, sometimes it’s necessary… Alcoholics Anonymous discusses the idea of “fake it ‘till you make it.” Sometimes we need to act in certain ways to help our own understanding and belief get there. But sometimes our performances limit, mock, or erase the ability of others to be as authentic as they want to be. We need to be aware and conscious of the intention of our daily rituals, actions, and beliefs… that awareness can be the difference between performative and transformative.

As we close this Halloween season, I challenge all of us to hold onto and be aware of the performances around us every day, including our own. I challenge each of us to close this time of letting go- the essence of Samhain (the pagan tradition from which we draw much of our Halloween inspiration)- by letting go of some of our own masks and performances. I challenge each of us to consider our intentions and goals in the actions we take- particularly the actions we take for granted. Let’s each put our masks down and work to be who we truly are, rather than carry on the performances of who we think we should be.

Robin:

revrobin2-023What does it mean to perform sexually? Is it only when one engages in genitally-focused activity or other erotic behavior? Or is it possible to perform sexually through speech or other communication?  Is it possible that constructing an identity, or at least an image, is an act of sexual performance?

My answer to these somewhat  theoretical questions is “yes.” And it is an answer from my own experience as a male-bodied-from-birth person. That does not mean that my answer is simple, and it involves a fair amount of personal history. And it seems to me that I am not done answering these questions.

In 1974, I was married to a beautiful, wonderful woman, Judy. We were blessed to have three wonderful daughters who have grown up to be bright, beautiful, powerful women with families and many achievements.

As a result of claiming my homosexuality and coming out as a gay man, Judy and I separated after nine years and then divorced. We remained loving and caring friends, and although she had primary custody of our girls, we worked together to raise them. Sadly, tragically, she died in 2001.

judy-feeding-the-gulls
Judy did everything with gusto

I can never talk or write for long about sexuality without thinking about Judy. She was a very sexy woman. She deserved a better lover than me. Oh, we had sex, but on my side it was mostly about relieving sexual pressure. I loved her, yes, very much, and she had a beautiful body, a beautiful woman’s body. But I did not crave her body, I did not fantasize about her body when we were apart.

Even so, I constructed a sexual identity as “straight” through a wedding, having sex with Judy, and eventually in helping to produce children.

At the same time, I fantasized about various male bodies. I bought a subscription to Playgirl, claiming it was for her (she showed little interest, and did not renew it) but really because I wanted to ogle the naked men.

I should have known long before that I was gay. I did not date girls in high school and had a major crush on a male friend and lesser ones on others, went through extensive psychoanalysis in college, and put off having sex with a woman for quite a few years. Still, I performed as a straight male.

Much of my failure to claim my  gay identity had to do with society—I was a good boy and did not want to make others angry or bothered, and until I got to college I did not know any openly homosexual person—but it is not so simple.

I am more sexually fluid than a label reflects.

julie-andrews-mannishI am not bisexual. I have a clear attraction to men. But I also find some women attractive, and have sexual thoughts about some of them. At the same time, there are limits (including that I am happily monogamous with my husband!).

I have never had sex with a woman that involved more than the “missionary position.” I tried oral sex, but I gagged (definitely not true with men).  So my performance has its limits, but only the couple of women I have slept with would know that for sure.

But my sexual antennae are not always fixed firmly on the gay wavelength. Admittedly, the women I find most alluring often appear somewhat boyish, and transgender men can sometimes move the needle on my attraction dial.

Sexual attraction is, at least for me and I think many if not most others, is not solely about genitals. My husband of 19 years said he was first most attracted to my brain (now he seems to like my body, too!).  Some people are drawn to legs (I really like hairy legs), others to height or the lack thereof, or breasts big and breasts small, chest hair or no chest hair, particular ass shape and sizes, etc.

I loved Judy for her vibrant personality, her laugh, her instinctive kindness and generosity, and I liked her well-curved body, too. Or maybe I liked that other men admired it, and that made me feel good……..these things are often complicated.

kinsey-scale-visual-male-guide
accidentalbear.com

In reality, many of us fall at less than absolute points on Kinsey’s famous (and I think less useful than it used to be) scale and our location can even change. Earlier, others would have classified me as a Zero (exclusively heterosexual, unless you count the one time I engaged in mutual masturbation with a male friend in high school), and now, since 1983, I would be a Kinsey Six (exclusively homosexual).  Does that make me a 5 (incidental heterosexual behavior ) overall?

No. Judy was not incidental in my life. She was, and is, even now, central to who I am and have become. As surely Jonathan is, and has been, for 19 years.

I have two friends, Arlene and Tom (names changed), who have been married for about 10 years. Arlene used to be married to a wonderful “butch” lesbian, Melody. Sadly, Melody died. A couple of years later, Arlene and Tom found each other. Some friends objected, saying Arlene had abandoned Melody. I said I thought love was what counts. Arlene told me that Tom was Melody with “different plumbing.”  I understood her to be telling me that she found a beautiful spirit in him that reminded her of her old love. She clearly loves Tom for who he is and vice versa; they are a lovely couple.

yoga-and-sex-vibrant-heart-yoga
vibrantheartyoga.com

I understand this. If something awful should happen and I would be without Jonathan, who knows who, if anyone, would become central in my life? Would I seek a partner again? If so, it likely would be a male, but that is not certain. And maybe I would decide to stay single. Whatever the outcome, I assure you, though I am 70 years of age, I will perform sexually in some ways or others—certainly by talking and writing about it, self-pleasuring, and continuing to figure out, and live out, perform, my sexual identity/identities.

As our transgender siblings are showing us, lots of things we thought were fixed are more complicated—and it is not just about bathrooms. Creation, especially humanity, is not easily locked into categories; scientists know that there are always exceptions to hard rules.  Creation is bigger than all of our boxes, and so are our bodies and psyches and souls. As the psalmist writes, “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. . . “ (139:14)

That’s surely me, and you, too, and everybody who wonderfully and fearlessly (at least bravely) crosses boundaries and concepts that inadequately describe our full, beautiful, complex humanity. The great thing about life is that it always demands performance, and we get to choose, if we wish, which roles to play . . . and how to play them.

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

How do you feel about performance, particularly in regards to sexuality? How can we challenge ourselves to be more authentic while recognizing performance is an important aspect of our lives? 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!

discoverpittsfield.com
discoverpittsfield.com

Please join us THURSDAY, November 17th for Sex, Bodies, Spirit Online from 3-4:00 EST. 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 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 I: Beyond the Binary

What turns you on? Is your attraction based on anatomy, gender identity, or something else entirely?

Sacred, Not Secret is a three-part series beginning Thursday, November 17 at 3 PM EST/19:00 UTC in which Malachi Grennell and Rev. Dr. Robin Gorsline, authors of the blog Sex, Bodies, Spirit, discuss alternative expressions of sexuality and intimacy from a Christian perspective. This month, they go “beyond the binary” of gay and straight to explore the fluidity of sexual desire, and explore ways that we can be an open, affirming space for people- not in spite of our sexual relationships, but because of them!

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.