Bi Blessings by the Rev. TJ Remaley

This article was written by the Rev. TJ Remaley, pastor of Southminster Presbyterian Church and CNP Board member.Being bisexual is a blessing in my life.Actually, let me pause there for a moment. It’s not lost on me that even my ability to begin a blog post with those words is a profound blessing because, truthfully, it hasn’t always been the case. A few years ago, I likely would’ve named it as a “burden” instead; more on that in a bit. But now, in recognition of Bisexual Visibility Day in the year of our Lord 2023, I’m able to celebrate my bi identity for the blessing it is – personally, vocationally, and spiritually. For the past several years I’ve been on a journey that ultimately led to a more expansive, more compassionate understanding of myself as the person God knit me together to be… including my sexual orientation. I am both happier and healthier as a result. Please hear me say: even if that were to be the only outcome of the journey it would have been enough. I feel great happiness in the freedom to be authentically me. What a joy, then, to discover that all the difficult work during those years of self-discovery has also led me to a more expansive, more compassionate understanding of the world around me, too.Here are just some of the many lessons I’ve learned.There’s more to me than meets the eye. By appearance and other characteristics alone, I am almost always perceived as straight. After all, I’m in a straight-presenting marriage with a (beautiful, kindhearted) woman. The fullness of who I am, however – all the intricacies of the various aspects of my identity and my interests – is far more complex and often not visible. Just as one cannot look at me and assume they know my thoughts, my motivations, my joys, or my pains, one cannot presume to know my sexual orientation.This insight offers me lived experience of some of the often-hidden complexities that others may bring to bear in their own lives. As such, I’ve sought to be a better listener, a keener observer, and above all, someone who is far slower in making assumptions of my own. Whether in ministry or in everyday life, when I’m getting to know someone I try to lean into genuine curiosity with a posture of openness. What does this person have to teach me about their way of life? After all… there is more to us all than what meets the eye.I sometimes feel invisible. Because there’s more to me than what is visible, there have also been unseen pains and sadnesses just under the surface of my otherwise joyful existence. Every community experiencing marginalization will identify with the concept of erasure, but I’ve found it to be particularly problematic for bi+ folks. For instance, I’ve often felt too “straight” to be included in queer spaces, and too “queer” to be in straight spaces. Before I was fully out at work, I sat in church committee meetings where I’d need to find the strength to counter the homophobic/biphobic comments made by others, even as their words had secretly wounded me. As I walked the journey of self-actualization and tended to my own mental, emotional, and spiritual needs, my invisible bi identity and the perceived privilege it afforded me often felt far more like a burden than a blessing. My soul was aching in plain sight, and I felt so, so alone.This insight has impacted everything I do – from the invitations I send, to the books I read, to the vocabulary I use. Aware that I still have much to learn, I’ve tried to focus on learning about and from the experiences of other marginalized communities. I have become much more empathetic to the needs and experiences of others, and am sensitive to the ways in which their stories may be discounted and their presence among us minimized or even ignored. Many of our hurts are invisible.I have immense privilege, and precious little privilege.  That may sound contradictory, but both of these things can be true at once. I’ve written before about how my process of ordination in the PC(USA) was far less frustrating than many of my LGBTQIA+ colleagues because I navigated the entire process as a straight white man.  (I do need to stop to offer myself some grace here, though: I didn’t even come out to myself until after I was ordained. For most of my life I thought of myself as a straight ally. Though the result was an easier path to ministry than others, it wasn’t an intentional decision on my part.). In any event, whatever privilege I held was noticeably diminished when I began searching for new congregational calls as an out bi man. I also note that the “privilege” of being invisible often doubled as a weighty anvil around the neck (read: burden). Still, more often than not I’m welcome at the table by virtue of my appearance alone. And should I desire or need to do so I can easily code-switch, leaning into straight-passing mannerisms to avoid uncomfortable conversations or for self-protection.This insight has offered me the encouragement to self-disclose my identity – early and often, to wear LGBTQIA+ identifying clothes and accessories when I’m out in the community, and to use “I/we” language whenever referring to the queer community. I do this in solidarity with those who hold less inherent privilege than me, to subtly show myself as a safe space for others, and to claim (and celebrate!) my own place in the community too.There’s life beyond the binary! When I first started coming out, I received all the age-old tropes that bi+ folks commonly face.

“But you’re married to a woman, so… aren’t you… mostly straight?”  “Are you secretly gay and just refuse to come out all the way?”  “Does this mean you’re cheating on your wife?”

Let me be clear: all these questions are rooted in harmful and discriminatory stereotypes of bi+ identity. They’re also illustrative of binary, either/or thinking, and of the ways my identity falls outside the expected norm. The truth is – God’s created order is filled with much more nuance, and so much of the world around us can’t fit neatly into categories.  Affirming my bi identity has helped me move beyond “either/or” thinking towards a “both/and” or even “all” framework. This insight has greatly informed my theology and my understanding of God. For example, if we can wrap our minds around the idea of Jesus being fully human and fully divine (both/and), then it should be possible to accept the nuance of bi+ identity as expansive and beyond this-or-that thinking. While labels can help to articulate identity, they are not always clear or helpful. If I can’t fit neatly into the boxes provided by our societal norms, chances are good that God can’t fit into them either. This has also made for a powerful personal foundation as I’ve shared space with and learned from folks in the transgender, nonbinary, and genderqueer communities – all of whom have had to make a home outside societal boxes.Authenticity requires incredible courage.  Friends, coming out takes courage. Lots of it. In my case, a significant part of my coming out story was out of my hands and against my will, which only requires even more bravery. (The lessons I’ve learned from being outed are worth a blog post of their own someday). By nature of the invisibility and assumptions I mention above, bi+ folks often report needing to come out day after day, person by person, over and over again. Though this work gets much easier with time, it never ceases to require courage. Though I have faced other serious challenges throughout my life, I can easily say that coming out as a 30-something married father and pastor took a measure of courage I didn’t even know I had.This awareness is where I’ve identified the biggest – and arguably most important – growth along the way. Looking back on the past few years, the courage, wisdom, and resilience I’ve shown could not possibly have come from my own strategic planning or energy reserves, but only from the God who has sustained me every step of the way. All the highs and lows of my journey of self-actualization have together worked for good, resulting in my ability to more fully claim my own belovedness and to see myself as a child of God. Though I still have work to do on self-love (shoutout to therapeutic care and antidepressants!) I am closer to wholeness and healing than ever before.As a result, I am far more appreciative and humbled when walking with others on their own journeys of self-discovery and coming out. From an institutional standpoint, working alongside the faithful folks on the Covenant Network of Presbyterians board and its network of partner congregations for the full inclusion of LGBTQIA+ people in the PC(USA) is incredibly inspiring. And interpersonally, every time I’m entrusted with a front row seat to witness someone’s courage and resilience on the path to authenticity and wholeness, I want to bend down and slip off my sandals, for indeed, I’m standing on holy ground.Being bisexual is a blessing in my life.To everyone in the Bi+ umbrella who celebrates Bisexual Visibility Day: I see you. I’m proud of you. And you are so, so loved.