Black Lesbian Spirituality pt. 1

Henry Louis Gates Jr. | The Black Church

I find myself once again at that pond near my house on some cold winter morning in 2020 having biked there

cause I needed to feel the cold on my skin

I needed to feel winter’s chill

.

I write about how cold it is in my notebook

how cold the metal bench feels against my legs, how my fingers are freezing, my toes are freezing, my ears burn, I’m shivering

how the water must be so cold and the geese must be freezing

I write about about the sun’s muted warmth

.

I NEEDED to feel the intensity of the cold

.

I find myself here again

it’s senior year and things will change soon

it’s some winter night, it’s freezing, I can see my breath

.

so like before, I return to the olds that have warmed me during the freezing

old school gospel, the late Carlton Pearson, Yvette Flunder, PJ Morton

and although I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a Christian

their voices bring relief from the freezing

just hearing Flunder pray

relief

their voices bring a muted sun’s warmth

.

I haven’t prayed in a while but listening to Flunder pray takes me back to being at my childhood home

at the piano older than me playing hymns with Rhoen on ukulele

the whole family singing

Love Lifted Me, Do Not Pass Me By, At The Cross, I Come To The Garden Alone

Our CME/AME harmonization

reciting Psalms 91

coming together in prayer

the most emotionally connected we’d been, the connection of singing together

of reciting that specific scripture during COVID before the vaccine

it reminds me how little Louise found home in god

found safety

.

a deeply sensitive and internal Louise

being met by the song Through it All

Don’t Let Go

I ahhmost lehh-go — Kurt Carr is a real one

I need thee oh I need thee, every hour I need thee

Being held by the augmented chords, seventh chords, blues riffs, gospel melodies

the cadence of the prayer as we lifted our hands

every head bowed, every eye closed, palms up

the preacher’s rasp, the smell of anointing oil, ancient hymnals, church fans

I’m not religious

so what is this medicine?

.

I return here when it’s freezing

seeking warmth

I find it

.

Winter’s shadow won’t be long by the corner

so I wait and tarry here

find the poetic in being able to see my own breath

Poetry From A Freeze

Mark my words

by Spring, my face will be bright again

Winter’s shadow won’t be long by the corner

I’ll be washed in sweet dew

And behold a new sun

gentle with a burgeoning warmth

I am awaiting

It’s on my bucket list to visit City Of Refuge Church in Oakland to pay homage to Yvette Flunder for getting me through many tough times. I used to be obsessed with old gospel clips.

I watched this youtube video of Shirley Miller, Yvette Flunder’s wife, probably over 900 times. I was obsessed. If you watch it, that’s Yvette Flunder telling Miller to start from the beginning when the intro is rocky.

Here is Yvette Flunder and Shirley Miller singing together. The way they harmonize!!? The 5 minute mark is golden. Nothing like COGIC music!

I miss the energy of the old black church with the hymn choir and church mothers wearing those hats and offering kids butterscotches. I miss the poetry of reciting benedictions or scriptures. I miss the intimacy that was holding someone’s hands and praying for them, or having them pray for you, or greeting your neighbor, or a good sermon that hit the soul. Oh and revivals where we got to see how other choirs sang it and see folks slain in the spirit. I certainly don’t miss the hiding though. I love being an unapologetic dyke and loving women aloud, and the black church didn’t permit that. Despite this, there are parts of it I miss.

I have appreciated being in romantic relationships with other black queers who share my unique spirituality. There’s a way queers who grew up in the black church hold spirituality. While we might not be religious or call ourselves Christian, some of us still pray over oil and anoint each other, believe in the power of words, obsess over astrology, listen to Kirk Franklin and Cece Winans on road trips or when we’re cleaning the house on Sunday, use holy water to cleanse our energies, and love ourselves through prayer. We’ve dropped the dogma and hate but still believe in the power of prayer/intention and the revitalizing energy of spirituals. There remains a reverence for the black spiritual tradition. I’m going to write more poems about Black Lesbian spirituality to get me through this winter. It’s so cold outside.

a spiritual black lesbian for your feed