Privilege and Safe Space

First published on the blog of Northern Lights Metropolitan Community Church.

I had the lovely, but slightly strange, experience of running into an old friend last week. When I was 14 and took on a volunteering role, she was the manager of the charity shop I worked in. We then worked together for 2 years in that shop, and another two that she started up for a local hospice. In that time, I went through my GCSEs, AS Levels, A Levels, several friendships, and eventually moving away from home to start a life at university in London. I’ve never had any doubt that working with Pauline gave me a confidence that I never had around people my own age, and that in many ways learning to work in a shop that brought in people from all walks of life with a whole range of needs and intentions was an early step towards understanding what ministry meant.

I clearly remember one day two young men, about my own age, 17-18, came in and asked for some dresses to try. You very quickly learn when you work in a second-hand shop that your stock is a major source of outfits for local themed club nights, fancy dress parties, and dares. (I once managed to construct a rather good Peter Pan costume from just one day’s donations, but that’s another story.) I jumped to the conclusion that these two were looking for outfits for some kind of drag night, helped them to find their size, and left them to it. It was only later, when the assistant manager cracked a joke about the colour, “bringing out your eyes” to one of the young men that I realised he was the only one trying on clothes, and that he and his mate weren’t laughing.

I think that was the first time I stopped to think about safe space, anonymity, and the projections we cast onto other people. I have always had a more-than-average levels of privilege, being cisgender, white, able to learn in the specific ways our education system demands, etc., but I don’t think I’d really taken it until then. I had never thought of my position as being one that could be used to hurt other people.

I often wonder now if that moment changed anything substantial, or how often I still allow the preconceptions I was brought up with to penetrate my everyday thinking unchallenged, and how that in turn affects my behaviour. I was reminded of the words of the traditional confession, which acknowledges that we sin, “through negligence, through weakness, through [our] own deliberate fault”. This means that when we contribute to behaviours and structures that harm others, that is as much as sin as deliberate harm. And what we do to one another, we do to God.

What a joy, then, to be in a community of believers who commit to forgiveness! When you are next invited to share absolution with one another, and to accept your own forgiveness, remember that Christ forgives all of us, even when, “they know not what they do”. Remember also that we are called to accept that forgiveness and seek to turn it into strength to make ourselves anew in the mould of Christ, who resisted taking on any power that suppresses the weak, instead fighting in word and deed for those who are oppressed.

Learning from the wheelchair weekend

I have always tried to understand how hard it can be as a disabled person to deal with getting around day-to-day. The world doesn’t make it easy; help is there but has to be specifically requested and the onus is on the traveler to calculate all the timings precisely. I’ve been aware of this for some time; I worked with disabled students at UCL and sat on the ‘Committee for People with Disabilities’^*. I saw how hard it was for people, and like to think occasionally I helped to make it easier, but the fact is that the world was designed by people who don’t have to think about this stuff, and changing it will take a really long time.

As I’ve said, a lot of people in customer service work really hard to make life easier. The staff at Travelodge were excellent, and although the system didn’t seem to live up to much, once I’d managed to get support at Marylebone the staff were really helpful once they’d realised I was there!

Being dependent on taxis is really hard work; and a lot of cab drivers were really reluctant to lower the ramp or carry the wheelchair at all. The first time I tried to get into a cab on crutches, I fell over on the pavement twice and then had to crawl in – I refused to try again after that!

When you get into a black cab in London, there is a helpful diagram showing you how to position a wheelchair. It is to be wheeled up the ramp, then rotated 90 degrees so that it is facing backwards. The problem is, the wheelchair I was in (which is by no means oversized) didn’t have the space to rotate. I found that a little worrying. Obviously I’m fine, but if the guidelines exist, surely they do for a reason? Did no one stop to wonder if there would be wheelchairs that couldn’t be manipulated into that position? Why did none of the drivers of the four cabs I took in the wrong position reassure me that they believed it was safe? Why did I have to fight to get the ramp lowered? I don’t want to be difficult; I avoid confrontation when I can, but after the disastrous attempts to get into a cab independently at Marylebone I really wasn’t going to try again! When you only have one load-bearing leg and are still learning to use crutches, cab floors are too high and ceilings too low to allow it.

When you travel in a wheelchair or need assistance at a train station, you have to phone and pre-book assistance at both ends of the journey. Once you’re on the train, the staff at your station of origin should confirm with your destination that you’re on the train. The problem I found was that although two members of staff helped me onto the train, and another one assisted me at the barrier, at High Wycombe, no one phoned ahead to Marylebone. If they did, the message didn’t reach the people it needed to. I was left on the train until someone came aboard to clean and found me, but they did then help me and it was ok.

The other thing I noticed was that the attitude you face as someone in a wheelchair is unpredictable. A few people got onto the train with large bags, and obviously had hoped to be able to use the wheelchair space to store them. I was a bit embarrassed at their exasperation. Someone also tried to sit in one of the fold down seats but stopped because it would have meant folding it almost onto my lap, so tutted and moved away. I was a bit embarrassed. Of course, other people were very kind. Someone stopped on the way out of the train to ask if I would be ok to get off. I think she was partly responsible for finding a member of staff at Marylebone, actually.

The other thing I found was that people are somewhat prone to help without being asked! I once saw this happen to someone else; I was on the escalator at Angel tube (the longest on the Underground, fact fans), and a man in front of me was supporting himself in a wheelchair. It took a lot of concentration, and he was clearly very focused and knew what he was doing. I didn’t want to startle him by offering assistance and would never intervene without permission. I was shocked when a woman marched up the escalator, pushed me out of the way, and said, “Why will no one offer any help?” She just seized his wheelchair without asking permission.

I had the same experience trying to get from the Travelodge to Featherstone Street. People took hold of the wheelchair to move me up onto curbs, or out of their way. Someone even pushed me into the breakfast table mid-mouthful whilst I was still eating breakfast at the hotel! There is a very fine balance between assistance and interference. I was quite scared by people grabbing hold of the wheelchair to move me without asking. You become very conscious of just how vulnerable you really are.

The whole experience taught me a lot about how much we expect from disabled people. I don’t know that I see that changing any time soon, either. But we can all educate ourselves about what it’s really like.

Have a read of some of these blogs:
Through Myself and Back Again: Lil Watcher Girl, blogging about feminism, disablism and everything
Benefit Scrounging Scum: Bendy Girl, blogging about benefits and the reality of living on them

They both link to a number of other brilliant bloggers and activists.

^{*Yes, it is a stupid name. And apt; for a very long time there were no spaces reserved for disabled staff or students.} 

Navigating London in a wheelchair (part 2)

After yesterday, I suppose I should have predicted how tired I would feel waking up, but I underestimated by a long way!

Muscles I’d forgotten even existed in my arms and my right (i.e. non-broken) leg were sore as soon as I woke, but I managed to wash, dress and get down to breakfast in the hotel this morning.

The Travelodge staff were excellent at breakfast, they helped me to a table and collected my breakfast for me, then helped me to reception to check out and out onto City Road to head back for another day with TheSite.org Leaders.

I was astonished, however, that whilst I was eating breakfast, someone moved me out of their way! I suppose I was taking up a bit of space in a wheelchair, and he wanted to get past, so he pushed me forward into the table. It took me a second to register what had happened, I spilled the drink I had in my hand.

I thought I was running late for the morning session, and admittedly I suppose I was a bit cocky, so I tried to make my way along City Road on my own. It’s a five-minute walk, but took me about half an hour even with some help from nice people along the way. Again, one or two people took it upon themselves to move me in the wheelchair without asking, or telling me what they were going to do. I admit that I was struggling, but I was embarrassed to be struggling, and I felt even more embarrassed when I was just moved out of the way like an inanimate object.

I wouldn’t attempt something like that again – it was a pretty stupid idea – but I’ll admit I was pretty pleased with myself when I did finally make it to the office.

I had great fun in the morning with fellow-Leaders Katie and Tolu leading a session on developing and strengthening the Leaders’ network to achieve even more in the next twelve months than we have in the first year. We played a game at the beginning of our session where we asked people to label each other with a range of tasks they’ve completed in their time as volunteers. I had my labels collected on my cast – which had remained stubbornly undecorated over the previous ten days!

Later on, some of the girls took it a step further, so that before I left for church I had collected three very sweet messages!

Thanks, Rochelle, Rach and Sophie!

It always sucks to say goodbye at the end of the weekenders, but I hope we’re all pretty fired up and looking forward already to the next one!

I was lucky again to have some fab support getting to church, in the form of a lift from Debbie. She wrestled my heavy and clunky wheelchair single-handedly into the car and braved the wrath of Camden’s many over-keen traffic wardens to get me there. I honestly wouldn’t have managed it otherwise – I couldn’t have either got a cab or a bus without pretty serious difficulties.

Was lovely to be back at church after some time off – and I was really pleased that I managed to get up to celebrate communion and pray with some of the congregation against the odds. I had another lift home from one of the deacons, and am now thoroughly exhausted.

I’ll sleep well tonight.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The Inevitable Gay Marriage Blog

One thing about having been brought up in an era of increasing civil rights for LGBT people, is that I feel like I am being debated all the time, and sometimes I don’t find that fun. At the moment, for example, the British Government is considering expanding the legal partnership rights for same-sex couples. The extant law allows couples to enter into a Civil Partnership. This is very similar to marriage but for a few small differences:

1. There is no requirement to consummate – so CPs cannot be annulled for non-consummation, and legally there is no allowance made for dissolution on the grounds of adultery;
2. CPs of male peers or knights don’t receive the titular rights of a wife;
3. It is not legally necessary to have a public ceremony, or even to both be present at the time the register is signed, as long as each signature is made in front of witnesses and a registrar;
4. Currently, they cannot be conducted in places of worship, or by a minister, or include religious liturgy / readings.

I realise those sound like small things, but they are enough to ensure that there remains a line between CP and marriage. After all, they are concessions made by the last government to prevent religious leaders from blocking the change to the law in the House of Lords.

This is the basis on which the government wants to make a change from CP to marriage. Essentially, even the consultation is an acknowledgement that there are certain differences between CP and marriage – and, therefore, that the government accepts that separate but not equal is not equal. (So when government spokespeople or cabinet members say there’s no difference between CP and marriage, they are making a mockery of their own decisions, it’s daft.)

So, here’s the thing, these changes are certain to resonate within the religious community – especially amongst those Anglicans who have a say in the lawmaking process – because they are designed to remove the concessions that the last government made to the church. The separation of church and state simply doesn’t exist in the UK (particularly England), with the Queen as head of the Church of England and the PM nominally appointing the Archbishop of Canterbury. This particular consultation challenges the church’s power by attempting to remove any part of the CP law that the church had asked for. It’s actually much bigger than just gay marriage; we’ve seen this again in the last couple of days with the challenge to the Sunday Trading regulations (which will be relaxed during the Olympic and Paralympic Games).

It’s understandable, therefore, that the debate tends to assume that there is a polarisation between what is right for same-sex couples and their allies, and what is right or appropriate for the church. After all, those are the terms that even the government is framing the changes within. The subtlety and complexity of the issue has been lost.

For example, there are many in the LGBT community who aren’t all that fussed about the changes. And who can blame them? The true impact is negligible for a lot of people. How many queer peers do we have, anyway? And how many people really care if the government expects them to have sex or not (as long as they’re getting what they want when they want it without coercion or abuse)? And, since the changes don’t affect the rules on religion, those of us who want to involve God in our lifelong partnerships are still put out. What is being achieved, except the use of the word ‘marriage’?

As I have already said, one can clearly understand why the church has got a bee in its biretta. What I can’t understand, however, is the way in which some opponents of gay marriage / equal marriage / [insert your preferred term here] are defending their position.

There is a tendency amongst ethicists to resort to what is known as the ‘slippery slope’ argument. For example, if we allow shops to open longer hours on Sundays during the Olympics we are opening the way for the Sunday Trading rules to be repealed. Sometimes, like in the above example, this is perfectly logical. Often, when talking about human sexuality, it is not possible to use the slippery slope argument logically. It does not directly follow that if we allow two men or two women to be married, the law will eventually be forced to allow one to marry a sibling, a child or an animal. Whilst homosexuality was once illegal, it was never considered to be abusive, as are incest, bestiality and paedophilia. It is downright offensive to suggest that loving, adult relationships are comparable. Yes, there are lobbies that claim otherwise, I accept that, and I don’t know what will change in the future. But I do know that societies create laws and moral and draw lines. Sometimes the placement of those lines stops making sense, and we move them; sometimes not.

I’m not particularly going to try to make the case for gay marriage; if you’re reading this you will have heard it and you will probably have strong views one way or the other. All I would say is that, whether those views are based on church tradition (or lack of), your own experience, or political bias; be aware that these issues are not abstract, and whatever you say will offend someone. I’ve had my fair share of uncomfortable conversations with people I (still) respect, and that’s ok. Goodness knows, whether they are separated or not, both church and state make mistakes all the time (left-handedness, poll tax…), and sometimes we won’t know the mistakes for what they are at the time. To err is human, after all. The important thing is that we don’t allow these ultimately petty, worldly concerns to lead us away from loving God, and one another, unreservedly. If we can manage that, we can hang in here for a little while longer.

Sermon: Born from above

Preached at Trinity United Reform Church, Camden Town, on Sunday 20th March 2011, Second Sunday of Lent.

‘Born from above’

John 3:1-17

With apologies for the poor sound quality, this was recorded on my phone because my dictaphone batteries ran out. If anyone knows of good freeware I can use to clean this up, let me know!

Remembrance

On Saturday, it was the tenth annual Transgender Day of Remembrance. Every 20th November we gather as a community to remember the trans men and women who have died as victims of hate crime.

Hate crime takes a number of forms. In its most extreme, it leads to murder. The murder of Ian Baynham in Trafalgar Square, or David Morley on the Embankment, or the brutal and unnecessary deaths at the Admiral Duncan pub ten years ago. But there are other things that happen that are dismissed. The people who call us names in the street, who make assumptions about others’ gender identities and discriminate against them for it, even the people who were bullies at school. This is all hate crime, and it is all damaging.

When people die as a result of hate crime, it is not always because they are physically beaten by their persecutors. These mental beatings take their toll. It is estimated that 50% of young trans people attempt suicide at least once. In the LGBT community as a whole, rates of depression, self-harm and addiction are higher than in the general population. This is not a coincidence, nor is it because we are naturally disordered. It is because we face such discrimination on a daily basis.

And in that spirit, we should also remember the victims of bullying. It is anti-bullying week and we know that the victims of bullying today may be the suicide victims we are remembering tomorrow. A single act of bullying can be so devastating to a young person as to lead to all sorts of mental health and emotional problems later in life. Bullying is not normal, it is not a rite of passage, it is a devastating and life-changing thing to happen to someone. Sustained over a course of years it can destroy self-esteem and erode hope in someone’s life.

The bullies will also suffer, those who torment others doubtless suffer countless torments themselves. The young woman of 18 who has been charged with the murder of Ian Baynham will never get her life back. She will forever be marked as “different” and probably even as “bad”. Her life has been destroyed because she was never taught that it is wrong to persecute those who are different.

So this week, as well as praying for victims of transphobic hate crime and all forms of bullying, let us think about what we can do to make the world a better place. Report it when someone assaults you in the street, refuse to accept that “it’s just a part of life”. Do not let hate-speak go unchallenged, have the courage to correct people who make ignorant and hurtful remarks about what they cannot possibly understand. If you are in a position to do so, share your own story with a young person who will be given strength from it; maybe even write to your old school and tell them about your experiences. A few acts of harm can destroy a life, a few careful acts of kindness may rebuild someone.

We are all one body of Christ; it’s time to look after each other.

Who is this Kate person, anyway?

Day 3 of NaBloPoMo and it would not do to fall at such an early hurdle. As I said yesterday, part of the thinking behind doing the month was to get used to posting and work out what I should be doing with my blog. So, with that in mind, I thought perhaps I should start by explaining my perspective. It is true that we are all products of our upbringings and backgrounds, and I thought it might help if I explained mine to give some sense of my perspective. I do think this is especially important as a context for my sermons. Of course, what this is not is an excuse or a mitigation for any of my views. I make no apology for who I am.

Firstly, my life in brief. I was born in 1986 in Hammersmith, and lived in Ealing with my parents until 1990 (and my sister, after 1987). We moved then to Penn, a village between Beaconsfield and High Wycombe in South Bucks and I went to the local primary school. After that, since Bucks retains its grammar schools, I took the 11+ and went to a girls’ high school for seven years. School was a bit tough, admittedly, I was bullied in primary school and that impacted on my experience of secondary school, but I have always loved learning and keeping busy so I filled my life with extra-curricular activities (extra Latin lessons, Greek club, orchestras, choirs, tutoring younger girls and running debating society) and mostly kept on top of things. I feel with hindsight that my schools were much more conservative than my family tend to be, and that this could have been one of the reasons I tended to struggle socially.

University was brilliant. I arrived in 2004 and immediately became involved in the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans) Society, which I ran for two years. I loved that, and have met some of my dearest friends through the LGBT socials. From there, I got involved in the students’ union council, then the executive and after my degree I was the sabbatical officer for welfare. Student politics was invigorating and frustrating, but I loved being able to offer support from people, being involved in decisions that could make students’ lives easier, and working with such a great group of people.

Academically, my degree was in Archaeology, Classics and Classical Art. I loved it and although I haven’t worked as a professional archaeologist I still spend a lot of time keeping up-to-date with the discipline – particularly the archaeology of London and the Roman Empire. I wrote my dissertation on writing in Roman Britain because I’m particularly interested in social theory and the archaeology of everyday life.

The focus of my life these days is God. I became a Christian at the age of 15, still at high school, although I had been to various churches with friends when I was smaller and I went with my family when we lived in Ealing. I struggled for years to reconcile my sexuality with my spiritual life. I never felt called to celibacy, and I struggled with the fact that whilst my church seemed happy to accept that some teachings were irrelevant out of context (such as the teachings of St. Paul on hair and head coverings), others were not. I felt as though the teachings were targeting gay people almost as a scapegoat. To a certain extent, I still do. I do not (and I can’t emphasise this enough) believe it was a conscious decision but I think it’s a deep fear of the other that is still prevalent in many churches.

It was such a joy to me to find the Metropolitan Community Church of North London (part of the United Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches). To realise that LGBT people can be celebrated – not just tolerated – and that this does not mean disregarding the Bible, ignoring the problem of sin or refusing to talk about sex. In fact, the church is full of brilliant people whose paths to acceptance of their sexuality has been one of deep soul-searching and a lot of praying. We are a diverse people, and I love that. I’ve never felt so at home anywhere. I am just beginning the long process of ordination training in MCC, because I believe I’m called to be a part of that blessing, and that is a joy to me.

As for now, I’m working for a chain of bookstores. I love selling books and meeting people, I’m thoroughly enjoying my work and learning new things every day.

So that’s my perspective. I’m a southern British, degree-educated Christian. My background in student politics and LGBT rights means I have a strong sense of social justice, and this is also a key part of my faith. How’s that for a whistle-stop tour of my mind?