St. Ava in Ecstasy … Attending Out on Film Day 3.
Last night I was fortunate enough to be able to attend the third day of Out on Film, running now through Oct. 2nd in Atlanta. Last night was a screening of LGBTQ+(R)eligion. Wonderfully made. No, truly wonderfully made.
You can support and learn more about the wonderful documentary by Yuval David and Mark McDermott at their website, www.wonderfullymadefilm.com. In their own words, the film is “#WonderfullyMadeMovie explores the challenges and aspirations of LGBTQ+ Catholics. The film is the first of a planned docu-series, @LGBTQReligion, that focuses on other faith traditions and LGBTQ+ identities.”
I am not, by my own admission, a religious person. I had my brief dalliance with organized religion and, like most things, it revealed its true colors and I decided it wasn’t for me. I was one of the ones who escaped unscathed. Able to look back and reflect on a weird phase of my life as I tried on different identities. To be fair, we were a military family, and my childhood was spent, the majority, on base. We attended a non-denominational service which, I feel, followed the Sunday Mass. Or something like that. My biggest disappointment with religion at the time is that they promised Jesus was going to come on Easter, and so I remember, as my mom made easter dinner when I was 7 or 8, I wanted to set a place for Jesus. Hmm. Memories are popping up. He never came, even though the service told me he had risen and I was somehow expecting him for dinner.
I went to bed and put Jesus and God in the same bin as Santa Claus. Afterward, we moved to Columbus Georgia, and a couple of other places before settling into Metro Atlanta. Never really attended church service regularly, so I had no inkling my parents were closet Pentecostals until I graduated college and came back home (or rather, visited their new home because … military) and they’d found a church! And they moved again and found another church!
So, when I dabbled in religion in my teens, for me it was truly a phase. When my parents came out to me as Pentecostals, I was shocked. I’d never had a clue, and I didn’t see it coming, but I accepted them with love and respect in the same way they accepted me when I came out. Rather shocked now at how it all happened.
But, the documentary last night. Detailing the continued homophobia and transphobia and general abuse by the Catholic Church towards queer people, and the harmful, lasting effects they leave. For me, the film was interesting because you could easily insert any Southern religious denomination and it wouldn't change the story very much, in terms of rhetoric and vitriol. I have friends, younger than me, from South Georgia who still very much bear the scars of growing up queer in the South.
All of this hate, however, was framed by the beautiful narrative of healing. Healing, specifically through art. And in the documentary, amidst profiling the legacy of hate the Church has left in many people it’s cast out, there are religious people also talking about the iconography.
Here’s where the movie had me. I’m a comp Lit major, as everyone who encounters me knows because I drop that fact constantly. I loved art history. I love art. Architecture. Movies. Films. Pictures. Literature. Poetry. Paintings. Art. art. a(r)!. My two mottos are “l’art pour l’art” (Theophile Gautier) and “make it new.” (Ezra Pound).
This was a movie about changing the iconography to reflect its people. And you had a queer black bishop talking about the black iconography in his church and the power that holds in terms of acceptance. It is hard to understand the power of iconography because it is so pervasive, and it is precisely why art is never apolitical. And not just in religion – the US government spends millions in terms of persuading consumers of mass media to think of certain feelings and sentiments when they see Captain America or Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Or even seeing the flag wave at sporting events while the national anthem play.
Cathedrals were more than pretty buildings, they were built to send a message, to be imposing and the object that towered above all else. The insides were crafted to overwhelm - from the impossibly tall ceilings and roofs that created this sense of insignificance to the way that the light poured in during the daytime to the way that the sound echoes when choirs sing and soar.
So, in light of all of the vitriol and damage done by the Catholic Church specifically (but let's go ahead and acknowledge their partners in crime in other certain religious denominations), the filmmakers set out to do a photoshoot. A photoshoot of traditionally iconic Catholic images with new likenesses. And here's the kicker, initially they set out to do a queer body but realized not one single representation would do. And the documentary also documents this process, of creating these images with these specific bodies - nonbinary, trans, gay, lesbian, bisexual, men, women, etc. LGBTQ+. Instead of one, there were ten.
And in turn, each person also shared their own personal journey of their relationship with religion. Their stories of rejection, of ambivalence, of perseverance, moved me. If you’re queer, there is a strong chance that you harbor your own scars. The feeling that perhaps you weren’t welcomed. Perhaps there was something wrong with you. There’s a chance that perhaps you had a go bag stowed away in the closet, from the age of 11 when you knew you were different and you couldn’t quite place it(maybe it was the clues from a young age after Ellen came out, and being told that we weren’t going to watch that. Never mind that we’d never watched it before, but now it sticks out.) Also in that go bag, you may have kept a bottle of Tylenol or some other pills. Your version of a cyanide pill - and if you’d had access to one you would have kept it in there. Never mind why an 11-year-old should know about cyanide pills ( I also loved history and read our encyclopedias front to back many times. I taught myself sex education just by reading the encyclopedia, but that’s another story).
The documentary was deeply moving and delved into the pain just as wonderfully as it delved into the healing it provided for the actors and models involved in the photo shoot. But not only that healing, but the level of healing provided through acknowledgment by Pope Francis. Of what his actions did. And also highlights the impact that acknowledgment and words have from those at the top positions of institutions.
When I first came out as gay to my parents, there were other circumstances surrounding it, but the first thing my dad did was immediately take me outside, on a walk, and told me in no uncertain terms he loved me. He told me about my Uncle John, who died in 1996 from HIV. I briefly met him, and he left his computer and some other objects to me/my parents. But he told me about how, in 1978 or around thereabouts, my Uncle John brought his boyfriend home for the first and only time. And how my grandfather rejected him so severely it scarred my own father. My dad told me he loved me in no uncertain terms, and that I would always have a home. Always.
Part of that story too lies in the night before I came out, I was working on AP something homework at like 2 or 3 in the morning. And I was thinking about all that would happen, and I started sobbing. I mean, deep from the soul sobbing. So hard, I guess it was loud and my dad came to check on me. And he asked why I was crying, and I told him I couldn’t tell him now but I’d tell him tomorrow evening. I had a test or something and I needed to focus. And he held me while I sobbed and he made me promise I’d tell him the next day.
I was also planning my possible escape. I cannot stress enough do not force a young person to come out. Do not possibly tell a young person’s family if they have confided in you. You do not know their home life. In hindsight, so much could have gone differently. And, the situation that made that happen, there have been apologies and recognition of what could have gone wrong. But that person was also placed in an impossible position and I’m not going into it. The person was put in a damned if you do damn if you don’t position, and I don’t begrudge them. But, for the love of god, if a young queer person in the South confides in you, don’t endanger them. And let them know that you can be their lifeline and a means of support. One accepting adult can reduce the risk of LGBTQ suicide by almost 50%. That’s how powerful acceptance and support can be. And look where it got me.
After the documentary ended, they played the photos on the screen. Again, iconography and art history. We see the images of known paintings today and think- ok. But at the time, many of the classical paintings are large. Not just large, huge. Sometimes the size of a movie screen large. Intended to impact the viewer at the time and underscore the importance, real or perceived, of the imagery. And these pictures were displayed at that size. And the way cathedrals were constructed, to echo the sounds of choruses singing St. Matthew’s Passion into resonation inside your body- the same effect took place in that theater. The images played as choral music sang over the imagery, giving it the same reverence and symbolism, and importance as the other iconography these images were based on.
Afterward, there was a reception at Apres Diem, and a chance to meet and discuss with the filmmakers, Yuval David and Mark McDermott. I shared much of what I shared with you with him and his husband last night. And also got to discuss the movie with other attendees. And, oddly enough, in its own way, have the message of representation to me. Because, in sitting in that room and engaging, I struck up a convo with a young queer person on their own identity journey. And they told me they were looking for someone who wasn’t cis, to talk to. And we chatted about our own gender journeys.
And as I was leaving, another conversation with a young filmmaker, who apparently had noticed me because of being visibly black and trans in that room.
I wear the tiara with purpose. It is in itself a piece of iconography and a signifier. I mean, yes they're pretty and sparkly and it definitely causes people to notice. And my Leo rising loves being the center of attention. However, my Scorpio moon and sun need more darkness. So, I wear it to have fun but to also hopefully serve as a beacon to queer, trans, and nonbinary persons that you can come up with and chat with. You will always find and have refuge in the Duchess. I wear the tiara so that, in speaking to cis-hetero people, perhaps I’m their first encounter or second encounter with a trans person. You’re gonna notice the tiara. It’s glittery.
And in striking up a conversation perhaps I help make life easier for the next trans or nonbinary person they encounter. I mean, it is a bit of a model minority, but it’s definitely intentional, and in hopes that with a positive first or second encounter with a trans person, that person will now go out and treat the next trans, nonbinary, or queer person with respect. Perhaps wishful thinking on my part, but I definitely hope.
And I hope Yuval and Mark’s documentary is adopted by PFLAG or GLSEN or HRC or GLAAD and they find a way to make a teaching tool to go along with the documentary. I hope those who see the film find themselves moved in some way.
Alright, I’m going to step off my soapbox for now. There are matters of the duchy I must attend to.
