LGBTQ+ Folk Are Everywhere

As the Executive Director of the Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists (AWAB), I was invited this spring to visit the Evangelical Baptist Church of Georgia. The purpose of my visit was to cultivate a partnership with the Peace Cathedral located in the country’s capital city, Tbilisi.

About a decade ago, with the leadership of its Bishop, Malkhaz Songulashvili, the Peace Cathedral went on record as welcoming and affirming of LGBTQ+ individuals. In a part of the world where being openly queer is not culturally safe, this is a courageous conviction to live out. As I am writing, legislation is being pushed through the Georgian government that could pave the way for it to be outright illegal to identify as LGBTQ+.

The freedom to identify as openly queer cannot be taken for granted. Yes, there are places throughout the United States and even the world where one can be LGBTQ+ and feel safe and at home to be who one is. 

However, this isn’t the case everywhere. In our day, with ideologically motivated religious and political nationalism movements afoot, to be openly queer can leave one feeling very vulnerable and unsafe.

In fact, as an openly gay man, when I travel, whether in the United States or abroad, I find myself thinking carefully about who I am and even how I present and identify myself to others.

It is always awkward when the person in the seat next to me on an airplane asks, “What do you do professionally?” Admittedly, depending on the person’s vibe, I must decide in the moment whether to share how I work for an LGBTQ+ advocacy organization.

For some, something as simple as needing to use a restroom facility can become a stressful experience.

Recently, a non-binary identifying friend shared with me how excited they were their driver’s license and passport were updated, identifying their gender marker as “X.” However, once they took their first trip abroad, the “X” on their passport became a marker they knew was better shared only when absolutely necessary. They decided not to do certain parts of their itinerary, fearing they may have to present their passport. 

While visiting the country of Georgia, I had the opportunity to have a conversation with a gay ally-identifying university professor as well as with two human rights activists who identify as queer. The professor shared with me how sad she is that in Georgia, the only alternative some queer individuals feel is possible is to flee the country to other “safe” cities or countries to be fully who they are. This professor regrets how, as a country, Georgia is losing scholars, musicians, artists and, in general, individuals with so much to offer their society.

The two human rights activists with whom I visited are not ready to leave their home country but are very aware of how the government may soon force people to live their queerness secretively.

While anti-LGBTQ+ legislation is yet to be passed, many think it is only a matter of time before it is. Queer people are already fearing they could be physically harmed, arrested, or even killed simply for being who they are.

In Georgian society, queer people can be marked as suspect for simply holding a partner’s hand, being too affectionate toward the one they love, or for presenting in non-heteronormative ways to others.

Call it my gaydar but as a queer-identifying person, I often can pick up on signals or vibes from other LGBTQ+ folk. Whether I was strolling the streets of Tbilisi, sitting at a restaurant, or patronizing a local shop, I was reminded that queer folk are everywhere.

One gay couple I saw, two young men, were sitting on a street bench with pedestrians bustling by. It was obvious to me they were working hard not to be too obvious with their affection toward each other. As I walked by them, I think they caught me staring and so the glance they gave me in return indicated they feared they’d been seen. 

I could see it in their eyes. Oh, for that not to be the case. Oh, for that not to be the reality in Georgia or any part of the world. 

It breaks my heart to know humans marginalize and dehumanize other humans because of how we want to love another or for how we long to present ourselves to colleagues, co-workers, family, friends or even to people we pass by while walking down a street.

While we can be grateful for “how far we’ve come” in the United States when it comes to LGBTQ+ inclusion, the look I saw in the eyes of that Georgian gay couple is a look that can be seen anywhere.

As I continue in my work with AWAB, I know there is much work for faith communities to do to make more spaces and places safe for all people to be fully who they are. I am grateful for the welcoming and affirming witness evidenced through Peace Cathedral in Tbilisi. It is courageous work they are about.

I am grateful, too, for the courageous work I see lived out through Baptist communities in the United States and the world over. This work of welcome and affirmation is desperately needed, and it is a work we will forever need to live out. 

While it is hard to be LGBTQ+ anywhere, and since LGBTQ+ people are everywhere, as an ally and friend, what can you do today to be more welcoming and affirming? 

I wish I had engaged the couple I saw on that street bench if only to say, “Yes, you are seen. And you are not alone.” 

My prayer is that someday, all of us, allies and LGBTQ+ folk alike, will live safely being the humans we are, no matter where we are. May it be so.