Despite What You May Have Been Told, Your Queer Sexuality Is Sacred
Monroe Howard-Shackelford, a D.C.-based licensed psychotherapist, is reframing the way Black queer men view their sexuality through a series of “Sacred Sexuality” virtual workshops and a recent in-person presentation at the 2022 NAESM Conference.
Howard-Shackelford says he never heard anti-gay sermons in the church he grew up in, but the message was clear about how society and the traditional Black church felt about LGBTQ+ people. Any romantic relationship or sexual desire that dared to exist outside of the heterosexual binary of traditional marriage was to be demonized. For many Black queer men, the messages received from the pulpit are often in direct conflict with their truth, making it nearly impossible to experience organized religion without harm being inflicted.
For some LGBTQ+ people who are deeply entrenched in the Black church experience, the concept of queer sexuality as sacred can be jarring, if not completely foreign. Sexuality is sacred on its own, and that includes Black queer sexuality, says Howard-Shackelford.
“I think that it is essential to live this liberating experience, to see yourself as not a mistake, because that is fundamentally how we are orientated—this is a sinful nature that must be taken out of you.”
- Monroe Howard-Shackelford
“I think that it is essential to live this liberating experience, to see yourself as not a mistake, because that is fundamentally how we are orientated—this is a sinful nature that must be taken out of you,” he said. “And if it is not taken out of you or away from you, you are not trying hard enough. You are not praying hard enough and you will live a life of shame and you will live a life of discomfort.”
Howard-Shackelford tells The Reckoning that part of his work in aligning the sacredness of Black queer sexuality is through encouraging men to see themselves foremost from a divine perspective.
“You were created on purpose. And it seems so fundamental, but it's very profound for a person to not see themselves through the lens of sin,” he said.
“Why are we so quick to diminish or minimize our sexuality? Because we’ve attached our particular brand of sex and sexuality to sin. And then, in our culture, we are always trying to separate ourselves from our sinful nature.”
It’s a reason why Black gay men often deal with higher rates of depression, suicide, and HIV acquisition—religious trauma—and a sense of unworthiness that often leads to destructive behavior and the denial about the truth of one’s God-given orientation.
“Why are we so quick to diminish or minimize our sexuality? Because we've attached our particular brand of sex and sexuality to sin,” Howard-Shackelford says. “And then, in our culture, we are always trying to separate ourselves from our sinful nature.”
The challenge lies in recognizing that there is nothing wrong with the authentic design and creation, and there is a sacredness in all that you are,” he said.
Deconstructing Identity
It’s a lesson that took years for Dontá Morrison, Ph.D. to master as he internalized religious dogma, bargained with God, and ran from the truth about his sexuality. A Los Angeles-based minister (Church One, Long Beach) and Associate Director of HIV Prevention Services, Morrison was raised in the strict Pentecostal faith tradition. He tells The Reckoning that his fear of being subjected to hell in the afterlife for identifying as gay was the impetus for a period of celibacy and an unhealthy performance of heterosexuality.
“I finally came to a place where I was like, okay, I know that I'm gay, but it has to be seasonal,” Morrison says. "And this is going to be seasonal for the making of who I'm going to be in ministry because, clearly, God would not allow this to constantly stay upon me. So I'm going to go through this season of homosexuality and every time I’m with a man I'm going to fast and pray and seek deliverance because it was not my intention to have sex with a man. The enemy just took over and controlled me for whatever timeframe that experience happened, because it was not God,” he said.
“You are taking these words that have been translated over and over that are fueled by white supremacist ideology and then said, let me regurgitate this to control you the same way you were controlled on the plantation. Neither one was God.”
- Dontá Morrison, Ph.D.
In his early thirties, Morrison says he was “delivered” from homosexuality in pursuit of his calling to ministry and began dating women, only to find out that at his core he was still a gay man who desired loving relationships with other men. The teachings of the church were in direct conflict with what he knew to be true about himself. It’s a reason why, today, as an openly gay man, he encourages other Black LGBTQ+ people to separate the church from God.
“People in the church worship the Bible more than they worship God,” he said. “You are idolizing the words on these pages and have no connection to God whatsoever. You have not consulted God on how you treat people. You have not consulted God on what you say to people. You are taking these words that have been translated over and over that are fueled by white supremacist ideology and then said, let me regurgitate this to control you the same way you were controlled on the plantation. Neither one was God.”
For Morrison, Howard-Shackleford, and Rev. Kevin E. Taylor, Pastor of Unity Fellowship Church NewArk, a deconstruction or “unlearning” of what they’d been taught about homosexuality had to happen in order to acknowledge the sacredness of their sexuality.
“People in the church worship the Bible more than they worship God. You are idolizing the words on these pages and have no connection to God whatsoever.”
“The unlearning is extremely difficult because so much of who we are, so much of our family traditions, so much of our connections are rooted in very Western-based Christian principles,” Howard-Shackelford says. “And so to have to unlearn these things means I have to say that my grandmama was wrong. My pastor was wrong. Mama. My daddy was wrong. Like, whoa! Wait a minute,” he said. “So what does that say about everything else that they said?”
Howard-Shackelford acknowledges the inner turmoil that takes place when one decides to begin the journey of unlearning toxic religious beliefs. But it’s a road that Taylor says Black queer men who are seeking healing must not be afraid to travel.
“That is the reason that I often quote the song “Mary Did You Know?” It says, “Mary, did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new? And the child that you delivered will soon deliver you?” To be okay with the fact that parents, in fact, birth children that have more information, have more understanding, and can go higher than they did. And that means in everything,” Taylor says, who also encourages believers to be unafraid to revisit scripture that has historically been used to condemn LGBTQ+ people.
“Because we are so often afraid to revisit them, we're holding on to Santa Claus, we're holding onto the story that we got told as children, and we haven't unpacked it again. The truth is, we have stuff. And the only way we're going to get to it is to create space to unpack this stuff.”
- Rev. Kevin E. Taylor
“Because we are so often afraid to revisit them, we're holding on to Santa Claus, we're holding onto the story that we got told as children, and we haven't unpacked it again,” he said.
For Taylor, it’s about Black queer men being able to dream a new dream as we rewrite the story that has been told about us by those without the lived experience.
“The truth is, we have stuff. And the only way we're going to get to it is to create space to unpack this stuff,” he said.
“It is a process that at whatever point it happens, whether it's happening in your early twenties or your thirties or forties and fifties or beyond, it is something that takes a lot of courage to come face to face with a lot of these things that we have adapted, but that has never served us, Howard-Shackelford says. “And as we start to heal those places, these things that don't serve us, they can’t co-exist.”
Extending Grace
The indoctrination and fear projected onto Black queer men that would have them view parts of their identity as shameful and displeasing in the eyes of God is enough of a reason for many to choose bondage over freedom. And because of this, Howard-Shackelford says we need to extend grace to those who are struggling to reconcile their sexuality with their faith.
“Our experiences literally shape the ways in which we respond and react—fight, flight, or freeze. That is why trauma can be so debilitating because literally, if it is sustained, if it’s intentional, it can change us,” he said.
Although the Black church can be a source of pain for Black LGBTQ+ people, Howard-Shackelford says there is a way to navigate the epicenter of Black culture.
“There are many things in the traditions of the Black church that move us, that enliven us. But that doesn’t mean that we got to take all of it.”
“There are many things in the traditions of the Black church that move us, that enliven us. But that doesn't mean that we got to take all of it. All the bullshit,” he said.
For his part, Howard-Shackelford says he’s planting seeds that he hopes will lead to a breakthrough for other Black queer men who can’t fathom that their sexuality is a sacred and beautiful part of their identity.
“I am not going to be the breakthrough for every person that I'm working with, but I am planting seeds,” he said. “And maybe two, three, four years down the line under the tutelage or the care or the purview of somebody else—that seed is watered or nourished by whatever they bring to the table and that is going to spring forth life.”
