I was raised in a conservative Christian religion that very carefully cultivates community programs anchored in the church. Looking at this behavior cynically, it’s a method of driving control and retention. When community is part and parcel with your faith, you can’t just question your faith in a void. Asking questions or considering leaving is tied to the possibility of offending your community or alienating yourself from your social contacts and even family for some people.
Even outside of religion, when LGBTQ people begin to grapple with questions about their sexual identity and gender, we face similar questions about whether we will be stranded outside our community networks. If and when we decide to come out, or when we start to understand and embrace who we are, there’s a calculus that we have to do in evaluating the social cost associated with that process.
I made the choice to leave my church, and upon exiting the all-encompassing socioreligious continuum, I struggled to connect with people. I had never learned how to build and foster a community of my own and it took almost a decade to learn and understand the importance, value, and necessity of those skills.
My journey to community began with the first step of finding friends and building a chosen family. The people I am grateful to count as my chosen family are the cornerstone of my community. In fact, owing to the fact that I’m not the most social person, the circles of chosen family and community in the Venn diagram of my life very closely overlap. I feel like chosen families are an excellent example of how LGBTQ and other people build communities.
The second step along this path was learning to recognize what communities are and are not. For example, the term “gay community” gets thrown around a lot, but I feel that in many scenarios it would be more accurate to say “gay population.” A gaggle of gays does not necessarily a community make. But when those gays come together to do something, whether that’s political action, circuit parties, drag houses, or Friendsgiving, they are fostering and participating in community.
My third step was conversation and open discussion of what community means to me. Despite never feeling like I fit in with my religious community growing up, I think I did see the value and benefits of what community can offer. When I first started talking to my friend Joshua about intentional communities and community in general, I realized just how important they are to me. I gained an appreciation for what I saw growing up, and what it can bring to our lives. Reclaiming that element of my religious upbringing was a very empowering moment.
To my mind, there is no “final” step in understanding community. Much like building and maintaining them, it is a lifelong endeavor. When Joshua pitched me the idea of an intentional community, a concept that has evolved into Alchemy Woods, it felt correct and I began a new chapter in my journey. It’s something I want to be part of and help build, even though that feels daunting and difficult. I know that because I’m doing it with my community — my family — it’s something that we can achieve.
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